Moment

After wandering around a foreign city for what felt like a lifetime, we finally stumbled upon what we had been looking for. What at first glance appears to be a small park reveals itself to be a massive carved stone monument. A calm pond separating the majestic monument from the bustling brick-paved platform opposing it and the archaic city of Lucerne. All eyes are on the stunning carving of the dying lion. Lying in a cave in the towering rock face, a spear broken off in its back. Frozen in time. Perpetually showing the sacrifice made by the Swiss guard for the French. It was truly a breathtaking sight, described by Mark Twain as “the most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world.”

I sat back on a small bench. Just taking it in.

All around me waves of people flooded onto the platform led by a man holding a clipboard in the air while yelling out facts about their surroundings. They all stopped, and stared at the lion for a few seconds. Following this they all took a few photos, sure to be lost deep in a folder somewhere on their computer, never to be seen again. This happened every fifteen minutes or so, seemingly on an endless loop. As they came and went I sat there lost in the moment. Content.

I went on that trip to Switzerland during the summer between grade eight and grade nine. For some people that transition was no big deal, and once I had gone through it, looking back now it really wasn’t. But, before I had done it, it appeared as a massive, and very scary step to take. Up until that point everything had been predictable and simple; I went to a small elementary school, and practically spent my entire life living in a bubble. For this reason the quickly approaching change to high school appeared to be a massive, daunting change that loomed over my head with an ever darker presence as I approached that September. Because it was more than just a change; it was a step into the unknown. I would sit and try to imagine what it would be like. But I can’t see the future, and when faced with the unknown I couldn't help but assume the worst. I couldn't help but let my imagination run wild, creating countless situations in my head. None of them were good.

When I was sitting on that bench, taking it in those fears and worries melted away. It was more than just a distraction; in that moment I truly wasn't concerned about the quickly approaching transition. Sometimes all it takes is a moment separated from your problems for you to realize the scale of everything. While what I experienced at that monument didn't magically remove that fear; experiencing that moment of calm in an unknown city put things into perspective, and gave me a break from the stress that plagued me.